If You Can't Make a Woman Snap, Use Her Daughter
by flotheknight
Summary: Kirby's daughter, Delilah, has been sheltered from her mother's past. It's been 20 years since the Reboot with no sign of Ghostface since, so it seems fairly easy for Kirby to filter out a murder spree from the history of her life, at least from her daughter. Easy, until a certain someone starts haunting Delilah's dreams.
1. Prologue

My eyes blinked open. I was standing in an empty, haunting space that seemed to never end. There was the occasional thicket or small tree on the horizon, but it was still rather dark and humdrum. The sky was mottled with blazing red stars, each giving off an eerie crimson light, and flecks of fluffy twlight clouds, colored like puffs of smoke, were speckled amongst them. Florescent blue mushrooms, shining with a surrounding aqua light, sprouted from the ground.

I heard a faint wail, and my hands began to tremble. "Where am I?" I shouted, hearing my voice echo into nothingness. This was getting strange. Another wail. "Who are you?" The scream echoed again. Useless. I had no idea how I had gotten here, but this was unbearable.

I attempted to step away, but I seemed to be rooted to the spot. My body began to shiver and my teeth began to chatter as a cold, harsh wind arose. It taunted me, nearly outright, and I felt my fingers flex in slight rage.

"The wind can't talk." I comforted myself, fondling the edges of the teal t-shirt I had worn to bed the prior night.

I felt something touch my shoulder, and I would have jumped, if I wasn't stuck to the hard ebony soil on the ground. I saw a quick, human-sized blur speed past me, and I screamed again.

"Show yourself!" I commanded, seeming to inherit my mother's courage right then and there.

A boy about my age appeared in front of me. He sported shoulder-length, soft-looking hair the shade of a dark sepia, and an overly loose white button-up shirt with a massive spot of blood over the right side of his chest, and a smaller one on his lower abdomen. Blood was smeared up his hands, but the most unusual part about him were his eyes. They weren't normal; they lacked whites or pupils, the entire eye being a mottled blue iris. He looked like he hadn't eaten for weeks, and his cheekbones jutted from his face. I guess eating radioactive mushrooms alone wasn't very substancial.  
"You don't need to be so pushy about it." he sneered, his eyes narrowing slightly in mock hostility.

"Could you at least tell me who you are and where I am?" I snapped, feeling partially frustrated with his sarcastic, mocking demeanor.

"You're in heaven, Delilah." He looked serious, but I wasn't buying it.

"This doesn't _look _like heaven." I retorted. "And how do you know my name?"

"You're on the bad side of heaven. And I know a lot of things." He sounded like I was wasting his time; annoying him.

"There's a bad side of heaven? Heaven is supposed to be perfect."

"There's a bad side of everything." he stated.

I was done with this obnoxious prick. "Can you just tell me how to get out of here?"

"You'll get out soon enough." he said.

"Who are you?" I snapped back, about ready to just give up and try to move.

"Sidney Prescott, duh." He rolled his pupilless eyes. "The old whore must be sheltering you well."

"Excuse me?" I spat. "Would you just tell me who you are before I get over there and make you?" My body seethed with fury.

"Someone's on their period." A smirk was plastered on his tight-skinned face, and I wanted to punch it right off. "I'm your guardian angel, Charlie."

"I can guess you died after telling some three hundred pound professional wrestler that he looks like a woman?"

"Sure, if you want to think of it that way."

I rolled my eyes, and took a step forward. "Hey, I can move!"

"Wow! What an achievement!" Charlie joked, clapping his crimson hands.

God, he was going to piss me off.

"For looking so much like your mom, you sure aren't as snarky." Relentless in his constant attempts to make me snap. Beautiful choice of guardian angel.

"How do you know about my mom?"

"As I said, I know a lot of things." Charlie said, walking over to me. He had an awful smell that was diluted with the copper-like scent of blood. Definitely dead. I felt him grab for my hand, and wanted to pull away. Too slow. My hand was now dripping with the slick liquid.

"I'm getting the feeling that you're going to be going soon."

"What?" He was confusing me more now.

Charlie got closer to me, the bumps of his ribs digging into my side. He tilted his head. "Try to have a normal day."

I woke up to a screaming alarm clock. Just a dream, thank God. I was probably going to end up killing myself if I had to spend the rest of my life with that sarcastic rat.


	2. Researching and Magic Forest Dirt

I knew my mother wasn't home, and I spent part of my Saturday on the Internet, attempting to research my strange dream, and what it all meant.

My fingers quickly hit the keys as I entered into the search bar.

_"dream about angels"_

The first result read _"To Dream of Angels - Meaning and More"_. It looked good, so I navigated my cursor onto it and hit the mouse. I scanned the page dutifully, but there wasn't any information that could possibly figure out my odd dream. I clicked on the search bar again.

_"dream about evil angels"_

Nothing, unless I was looking for some cliche underground metal band. I decided to enter one last key phrase out of desperation.

_"dream about evil spirit"_

I hit some illiterate _Yahoo! Answers _question dully. Nothing but some Christians with poor grammar kvetching about the paranormal. I sighed, tapping the power button on the large black computer box.

I decided to lie down, as staring into the bright monitor always gave me a headache.

Big mistake.

I'd landed in the same exact spot as last night, and swore under my breath. I attempted to jolt myself awake, but failed. Simply _wonderous._

"Welcome back." Charlie said, his steely blue eyes blinking slightly.

"Oh, boy, you again." There was something suspicious about having the same dream two times in a row.

"I try my best."

"Um, I have a quick question for you."

"And that is?"

"Can you elaborate more on how you know my mom? Like, at all?"

He shook his head. "The magical 'flying spirit watching over the world' trope."

"I know you're lying."

"Oh, I'd _never _lie to you, Delilah." Charlie purred, letting out a staunched gale of laughter. I figured he wasn't going to get me anywhere in this without help.

"Tell me what you know!" I screeched, leaping at him, hands outstretched. I crashed onto empty ground, my fingers stroking black dust.

Charlie laughed again as I scraped the dust off my knees, suddenly standing where I had been a few seconds ago. "What's so fucking funny?" I snapped, wanting to rip out his throat right then and there.

"Just the fact that you forget that I'm dead, that's what's-"

I leapt at him again, but I never had the dull, slightly painful sensation of hitting the floor.

I'd woken up, but something was still the same. I looked down at my hands, sides heaving.

My palms were covered in a charred black substance, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream. This was more than a dream.

I saw my mother's car pulling into the driveway. She'd think I was crazy if I tried to explain that some unbearably sarcastic (likely from years of wandering around a hellish forest thinking of cool comebacks to anything anyone could possibly say) starving teenager with bloody hands had visited me in my dream and it was real and oh God I'm sounding like a nut already. I rushed from my bed, turned the corner, raced down the hall, tripped once, and plunged my hands into the faucet's stream. The water below my hands turned black, then smoky grey, then a slightly more muted grey, then clear again.

One quick rub of a towel had my hands decidedly _not _coated in magical black forest dirt, and thankfully so, as I heard the front door swinging open. I decided against outright asking her if she knew a Charlie in her lifetime. I'd seem creepy. But, knowledge was power, right?

I greeted her and decided to confront her later so I had time to build up the courage to actually do it.


End file.
